The Life I live, the life I lose
by Broadwaypoetess
Summary: Based on the episode "One Life to Lose" (the one with Nathan Hale) Hale's POV. Sad.


Disclaimer: Liberty's Kids fic. Based on the episode "One Life to Lose." Nathan Hale's (the spy that was hung) last few moments with one of the British officers, before he was sent outside.  
  
(No Sarah*James in this fic, but just to refresh your memory about this episode some more. This was the episode where James saw that the British were kidnapping Americans and making them fight for, well, Britain, duh. (I know there's an actual term, but I've forgotten it at the moment, I'll remember it later, so you don't have to tell me what it is in your review, 'cause I'll figure it out.) So, anyways, this was the episode where James was discovered by some British chicos and they were going to kidnap him and blah blah force blah blah fight for Britain. Well, Sarah and Henri intervened, and said that Sarah and James were engaged and that James was going to eventually fight for Britain. It's actually pretty funny, because James is just talking through his teeth and seems very disturbed.)  
  
Yeah, so, just Nathan's last thoughts. Quite sad, in a way. You really have to see the episode.  
  
~Broadwaypoetess  
  
The Life I live, the life I lose  
  
I sat, finishing my letter to you, brother. My heart aches, but I keep the pain inside. I feel as though I have done little for my country, and I now give my life. My life. Distant memories of my childhood now flash in front of my eyes. Did I really fish in the creek near our father's home and catch nothing but water and soil? Did I really swim in that river with your and your friends? Did we really laugh and wrestle and kick cans in the street? Did I really kiss the hand of a pretty blonde girl, knowing you fancied her? Did I really have to lay in bed because of the beating you gave me after you saw what I had done?  
  
Well, you married that pretty girl, did you not? Ah, I regret that I will never see your sons and daughter. I regret that I will never see your children stand free or fight for what they believe in. I cannot write this in a letter, but you will know the sadness in my heart by my phrases and punctuation. Much as I would have known what you were thinking by the expression on your face. Tell Father not to cry over the loss of a son, but the loss of a patriot.  
  
There is a guard across from me. He's rather sympathetic. I handed my letters to him, one to you and one to the General. I would have thought, him being the enemy, that he would read aloud my letters in a mocking tone. He has not. He has read them, silently to himself. I have some French and Latin phrases in there. Some Spanish as well. You were always smarter than me. You should've been the schoolteacher, not I. The guard has slipped one of the pages for you beneath his jacket. I decided not to question him. A dying spy can do no good to anyone. I handed him the other pages for you. I told him your address and he removed the page he hid and wrote the address on the back. I wanted to question this, but he silently slid the page back beneath his jacket.  
  
Other officers were entering now. They were sitting at tables around me, some jeering at me, trying to provoke me to do something brash. But, I do not. Spying requires acting. Oh, how I wish I could have see a play by Moliere! Ah, I asked the guard about the theatre, and he talked to me of Shakespeare, but I already read about him. I pressed on about Moliere, and he mentioned a play by the name of Tartuffe. I grinned, and took one of the last of the papers back. I wrote that you should see it, if it ever comes around. He said it was a bit of a risqué comedy, with a con man pretending to be a priest, and deciding to take over the house of a nobleman. This con man, Tartuffe, was soon engaged to the nobleman's daughter, and was secretly trying to seduce the wife and secure the deed to the nobleman's house. I must have laughed during this, for the guard's commanding officer came by and demanded that my guard read my letters aloud. My guard read them, but not in a mocking tone. He read them in a serious tone, much as I would have spoken them if I were allowed to.  
  
As he read, I thought of millions of more things to say to you, but I noticed that he had not read from one of the pages! The page beneath his coat must have still been there!  
  
His superior, however, was looking very sour. He stopped my guard, and took one of the letters. The one to the General. He read it, and then tore it in front of my face. My letter, and all the reasons why I was not afraid to die were lost. He demanded my letter to you from my guard. My guard gave it to him reluctantly, without a word saying that it was only to be seen by your eyes. Your letter was torn. But, ah, a page was missing, as I did not see it. My guard was to give me a dying wish. My guard was to give you something that I had written. Ah, brother, if more British were like that, nay, if more men, nay, if more people were like my guard!  
  
His superior, a bastard of a man. I requested a clergyman to give me my last rites. Denied by this bastard. I requested a Bible, so I may have the book of Revelations read to me to prove that if what was written there was really true! If hellish demons and angels really battled, and I could ask the Holy Ghost of God if it really happened, or if it was going to! Ah, if I could have read about my Lord and Savior, Son of Man and God! But, to my horror. The Bastard denied it.  
  
I was to die. I was a nameless traitor to Bastard. As Bastard led me out to my death, I glanced at my guard. He was pure, living melancholy. As I left the tent, I heard quill scratching paper. Yes! My guard, my friend, was writing to you!  
  
Ah, brother, I hope you read it. I saw a journalist in the crowd, ah, he'll write about me. I hope you can read my letter first, and the guards note to you.  
  
Brother, until we meet again, I die, leaving behind my memories of our boyhood and how I relive them as the noose is about my neck. I die, remembering how I taught, and how teaching was my life. I die, educating still, of a sweet freedom that will be given to your children. The life I live, it stays beyond my death, teaching. The life of a spy, I lose it.  
  
Your Brother,  
  
Nathan  
  
~~~~~  
  
A/N: Yup. Ok, not exactly as it happened in the episode. Didn't really want to try to quote anything, 'cause I didn't want to mess up a quote. So, anyway, R'n'R! 


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